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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28890663">Oh mother</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmacy/pseuds/mmacy'>mmacy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Madam Secretary</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:02:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,090</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28890663</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmacy/pseuds/mmacy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They'd gotten away with it these past eight months. (I promise the B/E pairing stories aren't the only stories I'm writing)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elizabeth McCord/Blake Moran</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Oh mother</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Oh mother</p><p>~MS~</p><p>It was late… She— They were late. </p><p>As she stares out the window, watching as the brick brownstones pass by, she wonders why he hadn’t called. Then again, she knew he had some kind of agreement with Matt— he’d copped to it after he’d accidently mumbled out something about receiving a text with her arrival and departure times from the State Department. She’d poked a finger at his chest, teasing… he’d blamed the slip of words on the postcoital bliss. </p><p>She smiles, letting her teeth sink into her bottom lip when she feels the chuckle build in the back of her throat— his brain always seemed to turn to mush after sex, but so did hers. They’d learned that the hard way after he’d had to explain away her lack of… how did he word it? ‘…thoughtfulness’ to one of her afternoon appointments. He’d rambled on about a late night the day prior when she had failed to recall the objective of the bill that they’d been drafting over the past four weeks. After the three senators, including one who commented that he hoped she found time for a proper night of rest, cleared the conference room, he’d told her she was lucky they were all of the same party. She’d quickly reminded him that she didn’t belong to a political party before he dipped his head down next to hers and teasingly whispered that he’d have dropped the bill completely if he were on the other side of the table— He’d vowed never again to allow another stolen moment (or a few) like the one that had taken place earlier in her bathroom. That night when they were alone on the seventh floor, she’d stuck her hand down his pants, reminding him why his so called vow couldn’t be taken seriously. </p><p>Something in her stomach fluttered thinking about walking through his door. Seeing him… Being with him… The self-reminder that she had him was what had kept her going after he’d left the office earlier. And while the idea of downing one too many glasses of wine, with him on her arm, she’d much rather be in his bed, drunk on something much stronger than the drinks served at the bar. </p><p>“Madam?” </p><p>She turns her head.</p><p>She hadn’t realized Carl had opened her door… hadn’t realized the car had pulled to the side of the street and slowed to a stop. </p><p>She offers him a small smile before her head drops down, and she lets her hair drape in front of her face as she unbuckles the seat belt. And as the leather strap snaps back, she looks up— Matt appears at Carl’s side as she swings her legs over and down until the bottoms of her heels meet the concrete. </p><p>She’s offered a hand, but it’s lowered with a shake of her head. </p><p>As she steps up onto the brick path, she hears the car door swing shut with a whoosh and a sharp thud. She looks up and down the sidewalk, carefully surveying the street with a cautious eye, as she walks to the left— Matt follows a step behind. </p><p>She’d failed to notice the car parked two spots down, taking the place of the black Audi that usually sat beneath the elm tree. </p><p>She’s two steps up the staircase when— “It’s seven forty-eight ma’am.” </p><p>She throws a glance over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t plan on the dinner.” </p><p>She can feel the blush rise up in her cheeks as she steps up to the door. She reaches forwards and wracks her fist against the wood before she steps back and anxiously waits for him to let her inside. </p><p>She chews on her bottom lip until she hears the familiar scrape and turn of the lock, and a moment later he edges the door a fraction of the way open— his face finally in front of hers. </p><p>She smiles. </p><p>“Madam Secretary.” </p><p>She hadn’t thought twice of the switch from her first name to the formal title— they’d played that game before, at his ask actually. </p><p>“Hi.” She breathes, letting the word catch in the back of her throat. </p><p>“I was going to meet you back at State.” He tells her. “You were meant to call.” He says.</p><p>She hadn’t caught his tone, the prim and proper one he used with her when they were around the rest of the staff. </p><p>She shrugs in almost a teasing way. “I got distracted.” She holds his stare. “Can I come in?” </p><p>She hadn’t noticed the way he’d stiffened… Hadn’t paid close enough attention to the way he’d been blocking the doorway with his body, one hand held against the doorframe. </p><p>“You can’t do—” She pushes past him… pushes him… with her palms against his shoulders, she gives him a playful shove while giving him a suggestive smirk. “Liz.” He hisses. </p><p>She nudges the door closed with the bottom of her heel.</p><p>“I know we talked about stopping in at that donor dinner for Dalton, but I was thinking on the way over that maybe you’d found some sort of crisis that calls for my immediate attention.” </p><p>She continues to walk towards him.</p><p>They’re toe to toe. She has him practically backed against the wall now. </p><p>She reaches out and pulls at his tie. “Maybe one that requires our presence in the bedroom.” She whispers as she leans into him.</p><p>She takes his bottom lip between hers, teeth nipping, tongue—</p><p>He pushes her back. </p><p>“Elizabeth.” He warns as his eyes dart to the left. </p><p>This was when she first noticed the pinch in his forehead, the furrow of his brows that only meant trouble. </p><p>She follows his eyes, turning in the process, and—</p><p>And her first thought was that they’d gotten away with it these past eight months. They were nearly through the primaries… nearly through the on the road campaigning. Nearly to the announcement of her being number two on the ticket. </p><p>Her lips part as she lets out a breath. She shakes her head, and— “Stevie.” </p><p>She watches as her daughter slowly stands from the sofa, grabbing her purse off the coffee table as she did so. </p><p>She won’t meet her eyes until she does, and when she does all she wants to do is look away. </p><p>“Mom.” She says. </p><p>She can hear the pain, the criticism, the question from that one word. </p><p>She swallows as she takes a step towards her. “Stephanie, I—” </p><p>But she holds up her hand, fingers forming a star. </p><p>“Does dad know?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Do you hate me yet? The drabbles with these two have been coming the easiest lately, mainly because they're short, and not well developed... Still working on my multi (when I get the chance, and those chances have unfortunately been spare). </p><p>Leave a comment if you have the energy to do so, they make me happy.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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